Tears and Rain
by TheifKingofDarkness
Summary: ....he clenched her to him, praying that the life in his body would go into hers…that she would just live so that the hole in his very essence would stop gaping, mocking him with its very presence—as if it knew that because of him she was dead."


**Hey, everyone. This is Grey…obviously. I haven't put up a story for a while…and well, I haven't continued many at all. I hope y'all like this one…this is all I have so far. ******** Thanks, R&R!**

_Then…Six-hundred years ago…_

Prologue

The breath rushed from his chest as he watched her body slump to the ground. "Amelia…?" He gasped for breath but the lump of pain welling in his soul wouldn't let him breathe—or live—not without her. He couldn't stand the world without her. His life, his shore, his shelter…now gone. Tears started burning his eyes as the reality of her shattered form at his feet set in. _Amelia._ Gone. Her gorgeous black hair all messed up. _She wouldn't like that_. He knelt down and with shaking hands tried to straighten the long, curl-less hair that usually hung just past her shoulders. Her normally strikingly kind sapphire eyes were glassy with fear and sadness—they were lifeless now. Blood coated her pale skin, standing out starkly against the soft flesh. The odd sense of calm that had kept the sobs at bay snapped as he saw the carnage of her loving body. Sobs, screams, tore from his lungs, heart, soul, and mouth.

"No!" He pleaded—pleaded anyone. "Not my Amelia. Take _me, please!_….Please…pl…"

His ability to form words seemed to disappear and he curled into a fetal position, wrapping himself around her body as well as he could. His body shook with tremors of shock and loss as he clenched her to him, praying that the life in his body would go into hers…that she would just _live_ so that the hole in his very essence would stop gaping, mocking him with its very presence—as if it knew that because of him she was dead. Because he was so naïve that he believed nothing could touch her. Not as long as he stood there—but he couldn't stop the arrow from his tribesmen as they struck her down...it was all he could do to break free from his brother's restraining hold as her body crumpled. They didn't care about whether she died or not—she was what caused him to leave and stop killing…they had hated her and he foolishly thought love for him would stop her death. But he was wrong. And now she was gone…_So cold_. The sweet bliss of darkness settled in on him as exhaustion claimed his mind. _My sweet Amelia…They _will_ pay._

_Now…2009…_

Chapter One

Amy smiled, breathing in the fresh spring air laced with the promise of rain, surrounding her. _Ah,_ she thought, _I love rain._ Her barely-shoulder-length black hair was pulled into a tight ponytail to keep it out of the way as she gardened. She glanced at her watch, pushing back her tight-woven grey gardening gloves. 5:40 P.M. _Dinner time!_

Amy pushed herself to her knees and wiped her gloves on her holey jeans, adjusting the plain blue, ratty T-Shirt that was caked in mud. Looking around, she nodded in approval at her handy work. For months now the neighbors in her secluded cul-de-sac had complained about the condition of her yard. All of their houses were nice and prime looking, but her house was an off-shade brown that made her cringe; her lawn was a garden of weeds. So the neighborhood—knowing that she was tight on money—got together and bought her pots and pots of flowers, grass seeds, canary-yellow paint (her favourite color), white trim paint, and other such supplies. Since last Sunday, she spent the whole week fixing the house and yard—even taking the week off work. Every now and then the neighborhood men would stop by to help chop stuff, and the women all cooked her supper and pies so she didn't have to buy anything. Now her two-story house was a beautiful bright yellow with white trim on every frame; her door was a gorgeous shade of copper-brown that _didn't_ make her cringe with polished silver knobs; and her garden was fifteen rows—three feet—of differing flowers, most bulbs that would grow back next year, that split at the new slate walkway. The space left was a good twelve feet of mud full of grass seeds and covered in hay with sprinkles constantly keeping it moist.

Amy grinned at the success of her new yard. There were two plants left to plant, one tulip and one Irisene. _But they can wait until after left over Lasagna !_ She pulled her Ipod headphones out her ears and took off her gloves to perform the task pausing "Welcome Home" by Coheed and Cambria which was playing.

Once she got indoors, Amy stripped her 'gardening boots' off—boots that happened to be steel toed combat boots. Glancing down at the muddy clothes, she sighed and stripped out of them. _Not as if anyone else lives here to see…_ She ran upstairs and slipped on some loose sweats and a tank-top. Amy paused at the mirror and stared at her reflection, her coppery-orange eyes sad and lonely. She noted that the sweats hid the curves of her hips, but they were there. And the tight tank showed off her well-proportioned frame and her generous chest.

She shook her head; resigned to the fact she would never understand American women and their obsession with having generous chests. They were more a painful bother than a blessing—and men didn't swoon at the sight of them like most women seemed to think. Back in Spain, women weren't nearly as obsessed with they appearance. In that world, only the beauty of the country mattered to her family. Until that country forced them to flee, killing her parents. Only her and her sister Selena got out—her sister 12 while she was 6. Last year, at 25, Selena died in a car bomb attack from a couple radicals who found out that she and Amy were descendants from the great ambassador family that sold out her government to local terrorists a generation before her father's. Selena was just finishing her last year as an Intern—she always said it was about time their family gave back for the lives their ancestors had taken in their foolish politics. Amy wrinkled her nose, _Politics…_

Sighing, Amy headed back downstairs, almost running to the kitchen to get her lasagna. She opened the fridge and pulled out the pan of homemade yummies that Fran had made her two days ago. _Lasagna never gets old._ She cut a charitable piece and put it in the microwave next to the stove. She grinned with anticipation as the smell of fattening Italian food filled the empty kitchen. Amy glanced around at the deep red kitchen; it had black cabinets, potting ferns on various black shelves, a modern polished silver sink, a top-of-the-line black dishwasher, fancy and dangly light fixtures, a super cool gas stove, and dark green dish-towels. All of it was her sister's work—this kitchen was her life-long devotion.

They'd planned to raise their families in this house together…always together. _Family._

Tears clouded Amy's eyes as her thoughts lingered on Selena, remembering her long, butt-length golden blonde hair and shinny, clear, and ever-kind blue eyes. She had a nice body—the American girl's dream form. She had a job at a shoe store until she got her dream scholarship to a South Carolina med school. Selly was so excited that day…and then she was gone for 4 years at the college, getting her Intern-ship back with Amy in New York.

While Selena was off chasing success, Amy was back home, working full time at Borders. She had barely finished high school with a decent 3.6 GPA all for years, and found the college life unappealing. So Amy let her sis get the supporting job, while she herself toyed with the career as a landscape designer. Now Selena was dead, and Amy still could barely pay for the mortgage on an empty house she just kept repairing, as though her sister was still there to share the American dream with. Selly was always her mother more than her sister; their bond was so strong that Amy knew the moment Selena stopped breathing. They used to be able to finish each other's sentences—even predict the other's needs before either asked. Losing her was like losing a best friend you grew up with—one who was all you had left when everyone else disappeared…

Amy was jolted from her thought to the sound of the microwave beeping. Her stomach gave a vicious growl in protest to her hesitation to procure the lasagna. She grabbed the plate with an oven-mitt and set it on the counter. Once she salt and peppered the steaming meal, she grabbed a fork from the drawer by the sink and dug in right there in the kitchen. Hunger sated, the 20 year-old grabbed a whole quart of peach-mango V8 and gulped half of it down in one swig. She stretched and cleaned up her small mess before heading into the living room adjoining the kitchen. This room was her design: it was a dark blue with pale blue window/door frames; the TV was mounted on the wall about the fireplace, her dark green 3-cushion-sofa with light blue pillows and purple throws was on the wall opposite; the fireplace was slate and had a shelf on it with pictures of her w/ her sister, their parents, and every pet she and Selly had up until Ulric, her current cat. Ulric was sleeping on the every-shade-of-blue-and-green rug in front of the fireplace, his dark grey fur sleek and groomed. As Amy walked into the room he perked up his head, blinking groggily in acknowledgment.

"Hey, Kitty," she murmured, pausing to stroke his soft fur. "What you up to, love?" He flicked his tail and hauled himself to his feet, only to leap onto the leather sofa and curl up in the middle of a cushion.

Amy laughed and grabbed a throw blanket that she curled up in one the other two cushions. She flipped on the TV to Showtime, and saw "Romeo Must Die" was one, one of her and Selena's favourite movies with Jet Lee in it. The movie was just at the good part; when Han and the girl sneak out together. Sighing Amy closed her eyes and dozed a bit. Once the movie ended, she yawned and crawled to her feet, picking up Ulric.

"Come on, let's go to bed, baby." She turned off the TV and all the lights, not caring that it was only 8 P.M. and that any other sane 20 year-old would be out partying on a Friday night. She was tired and ready to shower. So she dragged herself up the stairs with her kitty in tow, dumping him on the bed. There were three bedrooms upstairs; hers, Selena's, and the guest room. Since Selly was always gone, Amy got the master bedroom, which worked for them since she was a pack rat and had the most stuff. Her room was dark grey—matching Ulric—with white trim on the frames. She had an entire wall of just black bookcases with all her trinkets and books. The closet was a walk-in right next to the master bathroom. The bathroom was light purple with off-shade white trims; it had a pedestal sink with a nice and fancy toilet and matching tub. All the knobs were brushed silver, and the mirror was frameless oval glass.

Amy stripped and hopped into the nice and warm shower, pulling the curtain, that was dark purple with dark/light blue swirls on it, shut. She was out in 6 minutes, clean and shaven. She toweled off and slipped into her boxers and long T-shirt before crawling into her bed; the bed had a light grey comforter with black sheets and dark purple and light blue pillows. Ulric curled into her back after she set the alarm for 10 A.M.

"G'night, Ricky…" Amy yawned one last time before closing her eyes. She listened for a minute and held back tears at how empty her house was.

_Maybe one day I can fill it with a family_, she murmured sleepily. _One day…_

**You shall get the next chapter soon! Thanks for reading… **

**-Grey**


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